


i can't hear you (but i'll listen anyway)

by marvelleous



Category: Inhumans (Comics), Inhumans (TV 2017)
Genre: Completely Inaccurate tbh, F/M, First Meeting, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelleous/pseuds/marvelleous
Summary: Rumours constantly circle outside the palace walls, tall tales of the Crown Prince of Attilan and his confinement, speculation of what gift Terrigenesis had bestowed upon him as a babe.Medusa has heard them all, but she believes in nothing, not until she can see the Prince for herself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [philindas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/gifts), [nessnessquik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessnessquik/gifts).



> my first non- aos fic since 2014 :) it's a mix of comic and tv show canon aka it's completely inaccurate :)

Rumours constantly circle outside the palace walls, tall tales of the crown prince of Attilan and his confinement, speculation of what gift Terrigenesis had bestowed upon him as a babe. He had been locked away soon after his powers were first discovered, and that is far as the truth goes. All else that is said, they're all just guesses in the end, because the fact of the matter is, no one knows, which makes the stories all the more enticing.

Medusa has heard them all.

Everyone knows that the younger of the two princes, Maximus, has no abilities, having walked out of the mists as a young child, completely unchanged. Many say cruel things about him, that he is no better than a human, but they're nothing compared to the horrific descriptions passed around about Prince Blackagar.

He's a demonic beast, some have said.

Hideous and malformed, others have added.

No better than Maximus, many have concluded, for it would be a disgrace upon the royal family to have borne two sons without any inhuman powers, zero trace of their ancestry.

Perhaps that is why they keep his existence hidden behind so much secrecy.

 

* * *

 

She learns the truth upon entering the palace when she is twelve.

It's a daunting place, twists and turns and every corner, and she spends the first few days there just trailing after her parents, trying not to get lost. She cannot reach the memories of past visits so despite having spent many days within the palace walls as a young child, it is entirely unfamiliar to her. It's too vast, and at first, she really doesn't like it.

Her opinions don't matter though. She's accepted the fact that she is to stay here to await her her gift, as a guest of King Agon and Queen Rynda, and until she is of an age to marry.

Medusa does not want to marry.

She wants to spend her time as she always has, reading and learning, playing with her friends, her little sister Crystal. That's the hardest part for her, being away from her sister, who is only three and will likely have forgotten about her by the time they next see each other.

The thought makes her want to cry. She even has half a mind to run away, have Lockjaw teleport her back home, but she knows trying to make an escape is futile, for her parents would only send her back.

At least she has her cousins now. Triton and Karnak. There's also Gorgon and young Prince Maximus, who takes to following her around everywhere, and together, they do a lot to make her feel welcome. She thinks of Gorgon and Maximus as her cousins too. They're connected through marriages in the family, and blood relatives through distant ancestors, but it's easier to just group them with the others.

She grows quite fond of all of them in a very short time, and by the time she's been there for two months, she finds that she does not miss home as much as she expected to. In fact, she's become used to life within these walls, studying with her tutors and having her own private rooms to stay in, it's not so bad.

It is on the first day of the third month since she came to this place, that she finally builds up the courage to find out more about the famed Crown Prince. She is playing with Maximus in the gardens when the thought crosses her mind, and she asks him about his older brother.

Maximus’s mood quickly sours, his face darkening and she knows she's hit a sore spot for him before he even responds.

“He's locked away. Mother and father don't let others see him. He's dangerous.”

The little prince storms off soon afterwards, clearly not wanting to continue their game, and Medusa sighs, wondering what it is about Blackagar Boltagon that everyone fears so.

She asks her other cousins, hoping that at their age, they will have more concrete answers for her, but it appears they're all insistent on keeping her in the dark, and that just won't do.

If no one else will tell her, she'll just have to find out for herself.

 

* * *

 

It takes weeks of searching, sneaking out after bedtime and slipping through hallways before she finds it.

A secret vault.

This part of the palace is often empty, secluded, but there is really only one way to know if she's in the right place. She tries the door once before seeing the keypad beside it, and realises there is no way she is getting inside the room without the code to unlock it. It would take forever to try out all possible combinations, and surely the King and Queen had put in safeguards should someone attempt to do so.

She uses her head in this instance, knowing that her patience will pay off should she just lie in wait for someone to come open the door.

Luck is in her favour not seven nights later.

She's crouched in a nook, hidden behind a decorative pillar, when she hears footsteps and the familiar voice of King Agon. He's speaking too softly for her to make out his words, but she creeps after them when they pass her hiding place, making sure to keep completely silent as she does so.

The keypad lights up as each button is pushed, and she commits the pattern to memory before she's distracted by the sound of the door opening, the bright light from within shining out into the darkened hall. She tries in vain to catch a glimpse of whatever or whoever is inside the room, but she's too slow, and before she knows it, she is shrouded in darkness once more.

Tomorrow, she vows to herself. Tomorrow she will come back this very spot and see for herself.

 

* * *

 

Though only fourteen hours have passed since she discovered the passcode, it feels like many more. She's not usually so impatient about things, but her curiosity gets the better of her this time.

Maximus tries to convince her to play with him after the midday meal, but she turns him down, saying she has to go and read, something for which the young prince has no interest whatsoever. She watches as he pouts, likely sulking off to find someone else to entertain him, before quickly hurrying down the now familiar hallways back to the vault.

Medusa is cautious, and checks three times to make sure she is alone before moving up to the door and entering the code to unlock it. She grins to herself when a click signalling her success is heard, and she opens the door just enough to let herself inside, before quickly pulling it closed behind her.

Though she has been so eager for this moment, she's also a little afraid, having acted so rashly in coming here. What if she is caught by someone, or worse, she's come to the wrong place? There's no time to stand and wonder though, so she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again, and turning around.

There's a boy standing there, in the centre of the room, looking at her with wide eyes. He looks like a younger version of the king, and she realises this is the crown prince and that he's nothing like what the stories told.

He looks so normal.

Not some grotesque monster like so many had said.

She swallows, completely unsure of how to proceed, waiting for him to react further than just staring at her, but he does nothing. Feeling a little braver, she lifts her skirts and takes a step forward, frowning when the boy, no, the prince, takes a step back.

“Hello,” she tries, smiling and dipping her head, lowering herself into a curtsy like she often does with the other members of the Royal Family. He doesn't say anything, even frowning a little, and it shouldn't, but it bothers her. It doesn't stop her from trying again though. “It's nice to meet you.”

Still nothing.

She thinks to tell him her name, to properly introduce herself, but it seems as though he has no interest in knowing, and she does not want him to get her into trouble for trying to visit him. Sighing, she turns to leave, alone hand reaching for the door when she finds herself stopping for some reason.

It isn't something she can explain.

Slowly this time, she turns again, and finds herself almost face to face with the prince, almost, because he dwarfs her in size, close to a head taller than she is. Inexplicably, she's not afraid. She keeps still, just watching as he places a hand on his throat, looking down into her eyes, and she understands his meaning in a heartbeat.

He cannot speak.

She brings her hands to cover her mouth, feeling so incredibly guilty for her judgement. Her apology is caught in her throat however, when he makes a gesture that seems to say “please don't apologise”.

He moves away, heading for a seat in the room, gesturing for her to sit opposite him, and startling when she chooses to be beside him instead. There are so many things she wants to know, so many questions she wants to ask of him, but she wonders how they will communicate if he is mute.

It is fortunate that he seems to have that figured out though, answering her first query before she even has a chance to make it. She watches in confusion as he moves his arms around, clearly trying to convey something to her, but she does not understand.

They keep at it for hours, and by the end, the prince looks so dejected because she cannot comprehend him. She realises that it will take time if she ever wants to be able to communicate with him, and she wants to give that time.

But not today.

It's already late and if she doesn't get back to her rooms soon someone will come looking for her. She looks towards the door and the expression on the prince’s face tells her everything she needs to know.

He does not want her to go.

She imagines that if she were locked up in a room away from others her whole life, she would not want her companions to leave her either.

“I'll come back soon, I promise,” she tells him before she leaves, and it isn't until she's arrived back at her rooms that she realises she never got to tell him her name.


	2. Chapter 2

Medusa makes time to visit Prince Blackagar at least once every week, finding some excuse to sneak off during the day to see him.

He smiles when he sees her now, and she always smiles back.

It's easier to understand him as the days go by. She recognises his gestures and expressions and together they figure out ways for him to show her what he is thinking. Sometimes she’ll just speak and he’ll listen. She tells him everything, about her family, Crystal, Lockjaw, spending time with her cousins and his brother and he always gets this envious look about him when she does.

“What is your power?” she asks him one day, when her curiosity piques.

_I cannot make a sound or I will destroy us all._

He looks unhappy, likely worrying that she will fear him as others do, but she just nods and lets them sit in silence for a while, processing her thoughts.

A king who could not voice his own opinions is no king at all. He'll need someone to speak for him one day… and maybe, just maybe, she could do it. It's an ambitious goal for anybody, and even more so for a young girl who has yet to go through terrigenesis.

But she wants to be able to help him, help her friend and make his difficult life easier, because she understands him, and how hard it is to be understood by others, to communicate freely through speech. She realises how terrifying it must be for him, such potential for mass destruction contained within him. Others likely feared being near to him, but Medusa trusts that Blackagar would never try and harm her.

He does not speak so he will not hurt those around him, losing a part of himself in order to protect others, and the predominant feeling she has in this moment is admiration.

“I'm not afraid of you,” she tells him, because she knows that he needs to hear it, that he's likely never heard it before, locked away from civilisation for fear of his destruction.

Medusa knows that she's said the right thing when Blackagar smiles at her, a truly happy one that comes with a sparkle in his eye, and she smiles in return. How fortunate she is that she chose to come here and befriend a kind and generous person.

 

* * *

 

“I will be entering the mists soon,” she tells him before her birthday and he expresses his concern and well wishes, moving his hands quickly through the air. “I'm afraid,” she admits, “but I'm also happy because it means I will see my parents again. I miss them.”

He nods in understanding and she closes her eyes for the moment and just hopes that everything will go smoothly.

 

* * *

 

It is on her fourteenth birthday that she goes through terrigenesis, her parents and the royal family looking on, and when she steps out from the chambers, everything feels different.

Like she's lacking control over parts of her body.

Everyone appears to be thrilled, congratulating her for such a beautiful gift and she turns, trying to see what has changed about her, gasping in surprise when a tendril of hair curls in the air in front of her. It's longer, a deeper shade of red, and she laughs as she feels it moving around her, marvelling in the sensation.

It doesn't feel that way when her hair is all knotted together by the end of the day and she's almost in tears trying to get it all to untangle.

“You'll learn to control it,” her mother tells her before her parents leave once more, giving her an image of Crystal, who is now five years old, smiling happily at her.

She vows to cherish it until she sees her sister again.

And when she sits alone in her room at night, taming her hair, she thinks about the future, her future.

 

* * *

 

Three months have passed since her terrigenesis before she visits Blackagar again.

He is reading when she enters, and stands up, looking at her in shock. She can feel the onslaught of questions even as he stands completely still, and she waves a tendril of hair in lieu of a greeting.

“I'm sorry I haven't been by to visit. I wanted to be able to control my powers at least a little before I came here again and the first few weeks I was waking up with my hair curled around everything and…” she stops herself mid-sentence as he approaches, studying her with much curiosity. Her hair moves a little restlessly, several strands wrapping around each other.

_It's beautiful._

She feels herself blushing a similar shade to her hair, unused to such compliments and wondering if she's misunderstood him. He tentatively reaches out, as if wanting to feel it, before drawing his hand back.

They've never made contact before. It wasn't proper. Despite technically being a member of the Inhuman Royal Family, Medusa was still below the Crown Prince’s status and did not dare to reach out and touch him.

She's already breaking rules by visiting him though, one more cannot hurt.

Before his hand has completely retreated, she reaches out, a particular lengthy strand of hair weaving through the air and caressing his palm. They both freeze, and she wonders if she's done something terribly wrong. Perhaps the gesture was too intimate, because it certainly feels that way.

For a fraction of a second she's afraid, but then he smiles, looking absolutely delighted, and spurred on by his response, she allows her hair to continue, wrapping loosely around his wrist.

She tells herself that it's just excitement when her heart begins to race.

 

* * *

 

As time goes on, her visits grow in length and frequency. She tells her cousins she is in her room reading, and they tease her for being a bookworm.

Maximus ignores her altogether.

She feels bad that she's neglected him, but tells herself that Blackagar needs her more, because he's lonelier and has no one else to spend time with.

There are times she wonders if he would prefer the company of another, and that they have only grown to be such close friends because she was his only choice.

It makes her feel terribly sad, so she chooses to ignore the thought, burying it away in her mind.

 

* * *

 

By the time her sixteenth birthday comes around, she spends most of her free time with Blackagar, disappearing, visiting him every other day. She looks forward to seeing him more than anything, but he seems to grow more and more distracted each time she visits and she's afraid to ask him why.

Perhaps he has finally grown tired of her company.

She knows he is to be released upon his nineteenth birthday, has heard many in the palace whispering about it, and he's mentioned it to her several times in their conversations.

It pains her to think that they may no longer be friends once he is no longer locked up, allowed to wander the palace, the city, and meet with others. She won't admit it out loud, but she's already jealous, despite knowing how ridiculous it is to be. Envious purely because she may no longer be his sole companion in just over a year's time.

She wonders if it is because she has grown to care so deeply for him, that she is afraid of him forgetting her so easily. It is a price she is more than willing to pay, if it meant his freedom, being able to live a life with some semblance of normality.

Did they all not deserve to have that?

 

* * *

 

Three months before Blackagar’s nineteenth birthday, they're sitting together in his room, reading together. When she is finished with her chapter, she closes her book, looking up to find him watching her, a frown on his face.

_My mother and father are preparing me for re-entry into civilisation prior to my birthday. They are sending more tutors and councillors to speak with me during the days. I think that perhaps you should not visit me anymore, for you shall be caught._

She tries to not let it show, her feelings that is, how hurt she is by his request. Logically, she understands the reasoning behind it, but that does little to quell her sorrow. He is her closest friend, has been since their early encounters, back when she struggled to understand him but they both kept trying anyway, eager to communicate with one another. She does not want to lose that, but it is clear the choice has already been made for her.

Their years of constant companionship would end today.

Blinking back her tears, she stands, holding her head up high as she curtsies to him, something she has not done for some time, at least not within these walls.

“I understand. Good day, your highness,” she says, before turning on her heel and fleeing the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Medusa is not moping.

Not over that stupid Prince and his insensitivity.

At least she does not have to lie about her whereabouts any longer, spending much time confined to her own rooms, not wishing to speak with others. She reads and reads, despite already knowing the contents of all these books her tutors insist she learn from, and she wonders if all the girls in the palace have to study as much as she.

There's government and laws and councils and most of all, the proper etiquette and way one must conduct themselves as a member of the royal family.

Sometimes she wishes her mother’s sister were not married to the queen’s brother so she would be free to live her life outside the palace walls, but she does not regret the past five years of her life. She does not regret becoming so close to her cousins, to that stupid Prince, no matter how much the thought of him both infuriates her and makes her long for his company.

As a way to cope, she feigns indifference whenever Blackagar is brought up by one of her cousins, ignoring the way his name makes her hair shift. But as the date of his release draws closer, he is mentioned more and more. Everyone, from her cousins to the servants are eager to see the mysterious prince once more.

She doesn't want to see his stupid face again. It does not matter that he is handsome or that she thinks of him all the time. It does not matter that he was her dearest friend for the past several years, that she shared things with him that she would not tell others. He hurt her, after all that time she spent with him, and the wound is so deep and so near to her heart.

Medusa fears it will never heal.

 

* * *

 

Luckily for Medusa, the confrontation with Blackagar that she so dreads, does not seem to come. She stands in the back row behind the rest of the Royal Family when he is presented to the people of Attilan, and he's too busy being bombarded with questions from her cousins during the evening meal to spare her a single glance.

She picks at her food and eats very little, almost feeling physically ill, quietly asking permission from King Agon to be excused early on in the evening. The second he nods in assent, she flees from the room, her hair flying behind her until she reaches her own quarters, collapsing onto her familiar bed and burying her face against the pillows.

He did not even acknowledge her.

She tells herself that it's exactly what she wished for, and wonders why it hurts her so.

 

* * *

 

After an entire week of just avoiding anyone and everyone, she picks out her nicest dress, holds her head up high and carries herself as a member of the royal family should. She makes sure to spend time with each of her cousins, and even speaks to his royal highness several times.

“Prince Blackagar,” she’ll say, before dipping into a low curtsy and going about her day as if nothing had happened. As if he was not important to her, as if they were nothing but strangers.

It makes her feel better this way, and maybe that's enough.

And by the time several weeks have gone by, she's happy, or at least as happy as she can be while missing her family. Even her relationship with the brooding sulking Maximus has been repaired somewhat, and sometimes they will walk through the palace together, engaged in conversation, a far cry from when the ten-year-old Prince had chased after her in the gardens all those years ago.

A single sentence, a rumour at best, tears her world apart.

“The crown prince is to be betrothed, to be married.”

She tells herself it must not be true, that it must be a lie, but deep down she knows that it is not so.

Marriage.

She had never wanted to marry. Her life is so close to the way she wants it now, and she's almost completely happy, but there's a part of her that's missing, that is not whole. She does not want to marry, but if she had, she would have wanted to be with him.

The stupid Prince.

Why did he make her love him so? What was it that he did? She cannot point it out herself, and knows that it's too late to think of such things now. In less than a year, she too will be of an age to marry, and she dreads the idea of spending her life with a total stranger, one that she does not love.

Maybe she could grow to care for them.

Whatever the case, she knows that she does not have a choice in the matter.

 

* * *

 

She is walking down the halls back to her room when she feels the presence of someone directly behind her, and without a second thought, she moves to defend herself, her hair flaring around her.

Everything stills when she sees the person who she hopes least to see, hands held up in surrender.

“Prince Blackagar,” she addresses him, her voice soft as she dips her head.

_Why the formality? And why have you been avoiding me?_

She swallows thickly, wanting nothing more than to fade into the shadows, run away from this awkward situation.

“I address you as someone of my station should, your highness. I am simply busy, and if you will excuse me…” she lets her words trail off, once again looking to the floor, bending into a low curtsy before turning and heading for her rooms, her pace much more brisk than usual.

She hopes she has not offended him, and at the same time, places a hand on her reddened cheek, wondering why his presence still evoked such a reaction before her. It takes a great amount of energy just to keep her hair still, and she ends up collapsing to her bed and falling into a deep slumber before any more strange and unwelcome thoughts can invade her mind.

 

* * *

 

Weeks pass without any further mention of the crown prince’s impending betrothal. And much like the subject, the Prince does not make to bother her any further. He appears far too busy, in some sort of argument with his parents that none of them are privy to.

She is strolling through the courtyard, heading back to her rooms after a lesson with one of her tutors, when she sees a familiar flash and before she has a chance to react, she's knocked to the ground.

“Lockjaw!”

There’s a girlish voice that she doesn't quite recognise, yelling for her beloved family dog, and she shakes her hair out of her face, coercing the strands to lie still as she pushes herself into a standing position, reaching out to pet Lockjaw on the snout when she is barrelled into by something blonder and smaller.

Her little sister.

“Medusa, I missed you so much.”

No longer the tiny child she once knew, her sister is eight years old now, and she wraps her arms around Crystal’s shoulders, letting her hair shroud them like an impenetrable red curtain.

“Your hair,” she exclaims in wonder, and Medusa weaves several strands in and around, demonstrating some of her abilities as Crystal claps her hands together.

She's overjoyed at seeing her sister again, and notices her parents are standing and watching them from a distance. Crystal is still too young to leave home, and she won't be going through terrigenesis for another six years, so Medusa wonders what her family is doing here.

Of course, her suspicions about the arrival of her parents are quickly overshadowed by the joy of having her family around her once more.

She's happier than she has ever been.

 

* * *

 

Crystal is dazzled by everything in the palace, and Medusa does her best to show her around. And at night when it's time for bed, Crystal refuses to leave her side, and they end up sharing Medusa’s bed like they sometimes did before she left home.

With all the excitement and energy spent, her sister falls asleep long before Medusa begins to tire. She does not even try to sleep, sitting up in bed with a book and wondering why her family is visiting.

Last she saw, her parents were speaking to the King and Queen, though about what, she does not know.

Perhaps it's nothing important and they simply made an excuse to visit to see her. The thought of that makes her smile, because she's just so happy to have them here.

Even Lockjaw who is sleeping at the foot of her bed.


	4. Chapter 4

It all comes to light after the evening meal, three nights later.

“Maximus, would you take Crystal out to see the gardens, I'm sure she would be delighted to explore with you.”

One by one her cousins had slinked away, and when the Queen calls for the Prince to escort her sister out, she realises that the room is almost empty. The servants have been dismissed also, and the only ones left here are her parents, the King and Queen, and Prince Blackagar, who looks as though he's about to be sick.

She does not know what is happening, but she is afraid.

“Medusalith,” King Agon addresses her directly, severely, and she wonders if she has done something very wrong. “My son informed me that you had made many visits to his private chambers during his seclusion.”

Her face pales and her hair now hangs limply down her back, as if all the life has been drawn from her. He had told his parents of her misdeeds. She does not know if she should have anticipated this, but surely she would be punished for her actions.

“Yes, your majesty,” she answers eventually, remembering her manners and dipping her head. She wonders how angry her parents must be with her, for disgracing them in such a manner, and she doesn't even dare to look up and see the expressions on their faces.

“I understand that you are able to communicate with him, interpret his signs like others are not able to.”

Medusa nods again, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress beneath the table, trying to keep herself from bursting into a tearful apology that would likely only escalate the situation.

“You are also aware that Prince Blackagar is now of an age to marry, and that you are the only female member of the extended Royal Family that is close to him in age, with a gift worthy of a Prince’s bride. The fact that you are able to communicate with him is a pleasant coincidence in this case.”

Her heart beats wildly in her chest and she frowns, wondering if she's misunderstanding the King’s implications. There's no way this is happening. Still, she nods, folding her hands in her lap and trying to remains calm as she listens to his next words.

“I hereby betroth my son, Crown Prince Blackagar Boltagon, to your daughter, Medusalith Amaquelin. Once they are wed, she will be known as the Crown Princess. Upon our deaths, when my son should ascend to the throne as King, she will be his Queen.”

She watches with wide eyes as the king extends a hand to her father, and knows that there is no going back. Her parents look immensely proud, and though she tries valiantly to stop herself from doing so, she sneaks a glance over to her… her betrothed, and sees an expression of fear flit across his features.

Medusa thinks she would be terrified too, if she were forced to marry someone she cared little for. It quickly dawns on her that she will be marrying someone who cares little for her, and she wonders which feeling is worse.

 

* * *

 

She has three more wondrous days with Crystal before Lockjaw teleports her family away once more, and she is left to go back to the routine she had before they came.

It hasn't changed all that much, except for even more studying of their people’s governance, and she realises now that they had likely always intended for her to become queen some day. It certainly would explain all the lessons and her coming to the palace at a young age and living here.

She's sure they could have never accounted for the sour relationship between her and the Prince, after all, they did not officially meet till several months ago.

When she returns to her rooms after the evening meal she is exhausted, but still takes the time to bathe, washing out her hair, which is an effort, even now. She dons her sleeping clothes afterwards, wringing the water out of her hair until it is no longer dripping, only damp, and sits on the edge of her bed, combing it through.

It takes close to an hour, and when she is done and rises to return her brush to its proper place, there's a knock on her door. She knows it's already late, and wonders who would be calling on her at such an hour.

“Who is it?”

There's no response, and she frowns, wondering if she had simply been imagining the sound when she hears it again. She moves towards the door, taking a deep breath and pulling it open, coming face to face with Blackagar. He looks down at her night clothes and damp hair and appears quite alarmed.

_I did not realise… I'm sorry for being here so late._

She nods, and despite every part of her that wants to shut the door on his face, she pulls it open, gesturing for him to come inside. He looks around with an almost childlike curiosity, taking in his surroundings, as she shuts the door behind them with a soft click, moving to sit down on the edge of her bed afterwards.

Deep down, she is still angry at him, but each time she looks upon his face and with every day that passes, she finds the feeling fades a little more. They must accept what has been put upon their shoulders, and if they are to be married, it could at least be civil.

He watches her hesitantly, and she pats the spot on the bed beside her, waiting for him to come and sit. Each of his movements is calculated, and she does not envy him and the difficulties that came with his extraordinary abilities.

_I did not wish for it to be like this between us._

Her hopes for a marriage built on at least a mutual respect and friendship lie shattered at her feet, and she wonders what it was she did, to make him feel this way. All she ever wanted to do was to make him happy, to share his company and see him smile. She wanted to help him communicate, with her, with the rest of their kind. Wherever it went wrong, she does not know. But the anger that had so quickly dissipated comes flaring up and she stands, her hair swirling about her, a visual demonstration of her wrath.

“I know we did not have a choice in this and I know you are unhappy. But I do not wish to marry someone who cares nothing for me either. I had only hoped to be a dutiful wife and queen to you, and I have done nothing but try my best. I am sorry that we’re being made to marry, but at least I have the tact to conceal my feelings on the matter.”

The tears sting her eyes but she will not let them fall, will not give someone the satisfaction of watching her as she cries out. She is mortified by her loss of control, that she just yelled at the crown prince and her future husband no less, and wonders if he will report this to his father also.

Blackagar, who has made no movements during her tirade, slowly stands, and she wonders if he is going to storm out of the room now. She imagines he’ll do it with some semblance of control, like with everything else in life. He doesn't draw back from her though, instead moving closer, and she gasps when he reaches for her hand, holding it in his own.

It's the first time he's ever touched her.

_I told my father that you were the only girl I would take as my future queen, the day my confinement ended._

Medusa finds that she cannot breathe, looking up into the eyes of her Prince and wondering if his words were lies, or this was all a dream. He caresses her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles as his fingers press against her palm, and she feels so incredibly small in this moment. It's more difficult to understand him when he's signing with only one hand, but she's glad he's not letting go of her.

_Aside from my parents, you were the only one who ever came to see me. You understand me. You complete me. You are my voice._

The tears she had tried so hard to hold back before are slowly rolling down her cheeks now. She feels so many emotions all at once and has no idea what to make of them.

“I… I love you,” she sobs out instead, because how could her spoken words compare to the poetry he had just conveyed through his expressions and movements alone?

He releases her hand, moving his to hold her upper arms, and looking into her eyes with an intensity she has never seen from him before. It takes a moment for her to understand the gesture, and when she does, she smiles through her tears.

_I love you._

Her sobs begin to fade as he pulls her in, wrapping two strong arms around her shoulders and she loops hers around his waist, wanting this moment to never end. Her hair swirls all around them, curls around his back like an extra pair of limbs and they remain like that for longer than they'll care to admit. His chin rests atop her head, and she presses her nose into his neck, skin against skin, breathing in his unfamiliar scent while appreciating the safety she feels being held by him.

They fit together perfectly, as if they were always meant to be this way.

He does leave her eventually, taking her hand once more and brushing his lips across her knuckles and she's suddenly struck with a thought about how incredibly lucky she is.

_We will spend time together in the day, and I shall keep you on my mind until I see you again._

She nods in assent, reaching up to brush her fingers across his cheek and then he's gone, leaving her room and she flops down on her bed, her hair fanned out below her, beginning to count how many days there might be left until they are to be married.

 

* * *

 

Many days come and go.

Good ones and bad ones and many spent in mourning when the King and Queen are killed during an attack, their deaths indirectly caused by their eldest son.

King Blackagar Boltagon, or Black Bolt as the people now referred to him as.

The time for youthful abandon is torn away in the blink of an eye as the young Prince is crowned the new leader of their race, and he begins a new type of seclusion, constantly sequestered away, dealing with the affairs of their people. His bride-to-be stands by his side at every moment, giving voice to his thoughts and opinions.

And when the time for mourning is done, celebrations begin, in anticipation for a Royal Wedding.

Not a single person looked away as the King and his new Queen were bound together in the eyes of their laws. All in attendance were in awe of the beauty of their Queen, and none more so than the King himself, who placed his hands at her upper arms and held her for almost an eternity, before they shared their first kiss.

 

* * *

 

“I think that I rather enjoy being married,” Medusa whispers, smiling as Black Bolt caresses her cheek with one hand, the other resting against her bare back.

She's perched above him, her hair falling like a bloody waterfall over their bodies, and he grins as she leans down to kiss him again.

_I rather enjoy this too._

He considers himself a very fortunate man, despite the hardships in his past and constant danger he posed to those he held dear to his heart. They have waited so very long for this day to come, and he takes a moment to reflect back on the times they have already shared.

There are five distinct memories that he thinks he will never forget.

The day Medusa first walked into his cell and spoke to him, he felt a kindness that no others had shown him before. He saw a girl, inquisitive, fearless, a beacon of light in the darkness that was his life.

The weeks on end where he was sick with worry after she vanished from his life completely, only to return having received her gift, just as beautiful as he remembered her to be and all the more powerful.

The moment he told her to stay away from him, the pain and agony within himself that he could not express to her.

That night in her room when they first admitted their love for one another. The way it felt the first time that they touched, to see her tears and to soothe her fears.

And now, lying here, with her in his arms, more intimate than he could have ever hoped for.

There were not many that did not fear his powers, and he is so lucky that his wife, is one of those few.

“What are you thinking about?”

She peers down at him, tracing her finger along the bridge of his nose, a tendril of her hair curling around his wrist like it did the day he realised she meant more to him than he could ever express, and he smiles again.

 _You_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed, please let me know by leaving a kudos or a comment. i will love and appreciate you forever ❤️


End file.
